


Supporting Not Only His Weight But Mine

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [27]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Flirting, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Marcus Is A Good Friend, Moving, Observant Marcus, Past Friendship(s), Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season/Series 03, Smooth Marcus, Stressed Joan, Talking, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7031038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While helping Joan move into her own place, Marcus realizes that something's on Joan's mind and he sits down and talks to her, sharing some of his thoughts and his own experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supporting Not Only His Weight But Mine

**Author's Note:**

> So I am finally getting around to answering a _veeery_ old prompt submitted to me via Tumblr from **technicolorrelays** that went " _How about a Joan /marcus bell fic where bell helps her move into her new apartment?_ " As I am still not done with watching season 2 (I'm a bad fan, I know, but I literally just got it on DVD, like, a couple months ago), it's a bit vague on what happens in that season, and so the actual Joanbell bit is also vague (hence the pre-ship tag in the additional tags, since I don't know exactly how Mycroft/Joan ended). But it's there, he's interested at the end, I promise! Anyway, the title for the fic comes from a quote from Our Demons, Best Friends by Diana T. Scott (" _He was really trying to be my friend, without all the emotional baggage we both carried -- mine still with me, but carefully folded in vacuum bags so they'd occupy as little room as possible and his, hangin on his shoulders like lead armour, making him slouch sometimes. And yet, as pinned down as he was, he was the one comforting me, supporting not only his weight but mine too._ ")

“I can be flexible. As long as everything is exactly the way I want it, I’m totally flexible.” She paced around the apartment looking around, moving a hand up to her eyebrows as she looked around, and then shook her head. “Nope. Nope, this won't work. I can’t move in here.”

Marcus set the heavy box he’d been carrying down near a stack of other similarly heavy boxes and looked at Joan, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like I’ve walked up and down nine hundred flights of stairs because you had to pick _today_ of all days to move when the elevator was broken,” he said. “And now you’re saying you’re changing your mind because….what? It’s not absolutely perfect?” He gestured to the couch he’d managed to get moved in earlier with the help of some guys from the 11th and then sat down and waited for Joan to come join him. She did after a moment and he looked at her. “Talk to me, Joan. This is about more than this place not being exactly what you wanted. It’s about Holmes, isn’t it?”

Joan bit her lip slightly. She’d always known Marcus was as perceptive as a hawk. Finally, she sighed and leaned her head onto the back of the sofa. “It all just seems so...final. I’m out of the brownstone now. On my own. I mean, I was on my own _before_ , but now I have this place and it’s not...”

“Yeah, I get it,” Marcus said with a nod. She turned to face him. “It’s kinda like a break-up between two people who cohabitated. You got all your stuff together, cut the ties, got yourself a brand new place and it’s a fresh start but you’re just kind of lost. I get that.”

“Have you actually lived with someone before?” she asked.

He nodded. “Paula and I lived together for, like, a month before it all went south. It’s part of the reason it went south, actually. I mean, aside from her trying to, you know, do what she did.”

Joan nodded. Their love lives were a topic they never really touched on. She was fairly sure Marcus knew more about hers than she knew about his; Sherlock had blabbed every time she’d gotten romantically involved with someone, and after what had happened with his brother...well, the less said about that, the better. She wasn’t in the mood to revisit _that_ particular fiasco. “Do you regret it?”

“Living with her?” Marcus asked, tilting his head slightly. He stroked his chin for a moment. “Not really. It was kinda nice to have someone to come home to. The aftermath was a bitch. Not just the whole her trying to kill me and then going after my brother thing, but _not_ having her there? That sucked. And even though you and Sherlock weren’t a _romantic_ thing, I’m sure it’s got to suck for you, coming back to an empty place.”

“Well, I do have Clyde,” she said, pointing to the tortoise's habitat.

“Yeah, well, Clyde isn’t much of a conversationalist,” Marcus said. He was quiet for a moment. “I could come over more if you want. I mean, it’s not like I have much of a social life these days. It’d be good for me to do more than sit at home watching television or hit a bar with the Lieutenant. Not that he’s bad company but...you’re better.”

Joan laughed. “I’ll keep that tidbit to myself,” she said, leaning forward. 

“That’d be good,” Marcus said with a grin as he leaned forward a bit as well. “I’d like him on my good side if I ever want to try and get a promotion.”

She gave him a wide smile as she studied him for a moment. She’d considered him a good friend for a while now, even through the rough patches. And it was nice to share moments like this, away from the job, away from Sherlock, when it was just them. It made her wonder, perhaps, if there could ever be anything. Maybe she wanted something, in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t know if he wanted anything either, if the idea ever crossed his mind either. Perhaps they’d be ships in the night, perhaps they’d just stay good friends. As long as he was in her life in some measure, she hoped she’d be content.

He pulled his gaze away first, looking down at his hands. “Probably should get the rest of your stuff moved in. You’re going to need all the help you can get unpacking it.”

“Are you volunteering?” she asked.

“If you want me too,” he said. “I figure you can owe me dinner for it. Maybe we can go get a decent bite, talk a bit. It’ll make for a better day off than most of the ones I’ve had.” He looked up at her again. “Who knows? Maybe we can even make a regular habit of it.”

“You mean the unpacking or the dinner and talking?” she asked, her smile slowly getting wider.

“Depends on how much you grow to hate this apartment and how often you can convince me to help you move,” he said with a grin of his own before getting up. She laughed and stood up as well. Maybe he _had_ had the same thoughts she had after all...


End file.
